


bury me in a melody (to remember when I'm gone)

by painttheworldinpastels



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Blood, Diary/Journal, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Nomin if you squint, and mild blasphemy, not really a lot of death but renhyuck are already dead when the story starts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painttheworldinpastels/pseuds/painttheworldinpastels
Summary: Jaemin is baffled to receive the diary of a dead dude named Huang Renjun instead of the workbook on Old Mandarin that he'd ordered from eBay, but when life gives you lemons you gotta make some lemonade, right?Would have been nice to get a refund, though.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 45
Kudos: 203
Collections: Renhyuck Fic Fest Round 1





	bury me in a melody (to remember when I'm gone)

The 14th century was one of the worst time periods there ever was. At least, that's what Jaemin gathers after a quick Google search.

The Great Famine, the Hundred Years' War, the Bubonic Plague, the ridiculous Great Schism, anti-Jewish riots, authority shifts, and so many colonizations it makes Jaemin's head spin. Natural and political disasters topped off with the death of around 45 million people. That does not sound fun. Not fun at all. 

There's some good things that came out of it too, like the Renaissance and all that shit, but those aren't the things that interest Jaemin at the moment. Right now his attention is on the eastern part of the world, specifically in northern China during the Yuan dynasty.

You see, whilst the 14th century brought mostly distress and despair, the 14th century is also known as also the closing chapter for Old Mandarin. And since Jaemin was required to sign up for an Old Mandarin class for his lit major, you get the picture. It's either he learns how to read and write in a dead language more obscure than Latin or he fails.

There isn't much information about it on the world wide web, which is why Jaemin was suckered into buying a 50 dollar Old Mandarin textbook on eBay. It's probably not the best investment, but Jaemin is desperate at this point.

However, when the package arrives in a little brown box sealed with an unholy amount of tape and Jaemin opens it with as much excitement as a kid on Christmas morning, he is surprised to find not a thick workbook but a small stack of mismatched parchment held together by twine and encased in a leather skin. It's a frail notebook that definitely looks like something from the Middle Ages—and it's not what Jaemin ordered. He tilts the eBay box upside down in hopes of his _actual_ order tumbling out, but the only thing that falls on his bed is the bubble wrap the notebook was wrapped in.

He sighs in defeat, reminding himself to check the transaction details when he's able to attain good internet connection, since his dorm's Wi-Fi is...not the best. He thumbs through the notebook with as much care as he can, careful not to ruin it so it's eligible for return. Quickly, he discovers that it isn't just some random notebook.

It's a journal.

Jaemin plops himself face-first onto his bed. _This_ is why Jaemin doesn't like shopping online. The item's state is subjective to what the seller deems "in mint condition", he has to pay an arm and a leg for shipping, and the descriptions are always lacking something pivotal. Like the fact that he was just sold some dead guy's diary.

Jaemim glares at the leather-bound notebook. Honestly, he would have taken a beginner's workbook over this. He doesn't feel comfortable snooping around someone's personal business, especially someone who is presumably long gone. _The past is in the past_ , as Elsa so eloquently puts it.

Jaemin opens the notebook again and skims it properly this time. The language is Old Mandarin alright, Jaemin can tell. And if he remembers correctly, the seller didn't exactly specify that he'd be getting a textbook. All that was listed was "Old Mandarin reading materials!!! Surefire learning (prior knowledge required)".

Jaemin groans. Fine, maybe it was his own fault for not scrutinizing his purchases thoroughly. Maybe eBay isn't as deceptive as he thought. 

(But still, fuck capitalism.)

He needs to pass, and filing for a refund or a replacement would take too long, and he's already spent so much time and money looking for viable studying materials. He goes over to his desk, pulls out his swivel chair, and takes a seat. All he can do now is hope that the previous owner (bless their soul, wherever it is; hopefully there was a heaven or some nice afterlife settings during the 14th century) doesn't mind the intrusion.

> _January 02, 1352_
> 
> _And so it begins—_

Jaemin closes the notebook immediately. One phrase in and he's already considering dropping out of class.

"I'd better be the highest scoring student during finals or I'm donating this," Jaemin grumbles as he reopens the notebook as gently as he can, offering a wordless apology to whoever's life he was peeping on for closing it so harshly. 

He hopes the owner isn't cursing him to fail or something.

> _And so it begins—I leave everything behind. Some have said it's a noble sacrifice, and some have said it's a waste. A couple of hours upon arriving in Florence and personally I think this is one of the stupidest things I have ever done._

Jaemin stops reading. He read that wrong, didn't he?

He consults his notes and modules and all the references he can find for free on the internet, and all of them churn out the same result: he's not a _complete_ fool, and this narrator actually has a sense of humor. Interesting.

Jaemin leans back on his desk chair. Huh. He likes this guy. He traces the name engraved on the leather cover: Huang Renjun.

> _I'm not an idiot. I made sure to learn the language before I catapulted myself over here, but no matter how much I try to keep my head down, the people still stare. Haven't they ever seen an Oriental before?_
> 
> _I should probably try writing my thoughts down in Latin instead of Mandarin—_

Jaemin stops reading and purses his lips together. Is this his fifty dollars' worth? One diary entry in the language he needs to learn and the rest useless for him? Could you file for a refund on eBay after an item has been sold and arrived with no defects?

> _—but that would be too much work, and frankly I'm not keen on letting my Mandarin literacy fade away. It's the only thing I have left, to be pragmatic. A little piece of home._

Jaemin exhales deeply. This is fine. 

> _I'd like to find employment as soon as possible, and I'm certain there's a good amount of work available for artists in the bustling hub of humanities that Florence is. Getting my name out there will be a challenge, and a lot of people may overlook me considering I'm not one of them, but I'll let my talent speak for itself. I intend to visit their famed Florence Cathedral tomorrow, and perhaps look around if time allows. I've settled my lodging arrangements for now and I should be fine even without work for another few months, but I don't like feeling useless._

"You and me both, my dude. Mister Huang. Can I just call you Renjun?" Jaemin wonders, suppressing a yawn. This is all certainly very engrossing and he's very interested in how this story unfolds, but he had a seven a.m. class earlier today and his soft, comfy bed is taunting him.

> _I've got to buy necessities, of course. The loft is almost barren, but it was cheap so I shouldn't have expected much. There's a small bed that fits me just fine, and it's quite comfortable if I ignore the cockroach I saw under the mattress. That reminds me that I've yet to give this place a good scrubbing down on top of looking for work, familiarizing myself with the city, and trying to survive in general._
> 
> _I wonder if this situation would be entertaining from an outsider's point of view. I'm certainly not having fun, but I wonder if someone would find this comical. Moving to and thriving in a foreign land truly sounds like a riveting adventure; it's just not as fascinating when it's happening to me, especially when I'm not even sure as to whether I'll be able to stick it out. Should I start looking up when the next ship back to China will depart?_

He mentally cheers Renjun on. He's definitely had some exciting encounters there, because his notebook wouldn't be so full otherwise. He rubs his eyes in an effort to stay awake but he soon finds that isn't necessary; his drowsiness disappears with Renjun's next statement.

> _Well. If anyone finds this little book of mine, assuming it hasn't been ruined beyond recognition or repair, I hope you enjoy the ride._

* * *

"And you're sure you don't want to file a scamming report?" Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin as he aggressively wipes a stain off the countertop. "You could probably get your money back if you paid through PayPal."

Jaemin shakes his head firmly. "It's all good, man. I read through some of it and everything seems to be in Old Mandarin. Might not have been what I expected but it's technically what I paid for. Besides, the seller already deactivated. Kinda shady, but c'est la vie.

"If you're sure." Jeno still looks unconvinced, but he's not in a position to argue. Especially not when the bell above the café door chimes and in walk new customers—two men that look around Jaemin's age, but slightly shorter.

Jaemin steps away from the counter just as they step up. He'll have to retract his former statement; they're definitely _more_ than just slightly shorter. A good half-foot smaller, maybe.

"Jenooo," one of the new arrivals whines playfully. "You didn't wave back when I waved to you in the quad."

"Sorry, Haechannie." Jeno smiles at him fondly and Jaemin does a double take. Jeno? Fond? Of something other than his cats and Doyoung? "I didn't see you."

"You'll have to make it up to me," the stranger sing-songs, grinning so wide that Jaemin could see his gums from his angle. "My latte has to have extra whipped cream. Lots and lots of it."

"Gotcha." Jeno's gaze shifts to the person beside the smiley, bushy-haired customer. "And what will you have?"

"Hot chocolate. Not in the mood for coffee today, sorry Jen."

"No need to be sorry, coming right up. And it's not on the house so bring out your wallet, Haechan."

The Haechan person splutters. "Junnie could be the one paying, for all you know!"

Jeno and the customers banter some more, and Jaemin drifts towards the pastry display. He offers a smile to Jaehyun, who is trying and unfortunately failing to make latte art. Johnny snickers beside him as he pours some coffee beans into the grinder.

"Here you go," Taeyong says from his right, and Jaemin turns to find him handing two cups to Haechan and his comrade. They thank Taeyong and bid Jeno goodbye, who acknowledges them with a wave as he tends to another customer. Jaemin accidentally makes eye contact with Haechan on their way out, and he smiles at Jaemin toothily before following his companion outside. Cute.

"He's so cute," Jaemin says aloud, wandering back to Jeno when there's no more customers standing in front of him waiting to be rung up. Jeno whips his head from Jaemin to the door. "Haechan?"

"Yup. He's really cute."

"Hold on there, bud, pretty sure he's taken. By the dude he was with."

"I'm not going after him, sheesh, Jen. Can't I comment on how cute my fellow uni students are every now and then without you reducing it to my flirty nature?"

"That's a lot of words for someone who's about to be late for his Psych class."

"Joke's on you, I'm always late to Psych class. One americano as black as your soul pleaaassseeeee."

Jeno rolls his eyes but doesn't charge him, yelling "one americano, Jaemin style" in Johnny's direction. Jaemin winks at him as he waits for his drink, still thinking about the cute boy with fluffy hair and a big, bright smile.

* * *

Jaemin collapses onto his bed the minute he enters his dorm room at sometime nearing midnight. It's exam week and he's taken to camping in the library until the librarians kick him and all the other poor souls out. (They don't do it by choice so Jaemin doesn't hold it against them, but he _is_ a firm believer that the library should stay open 24/7 in dire situations such as this.)

He hasn't seen any of his friends recently, though Jeno did send him a care package consisting of instant coffee and instant noodles—the college student starter pack slash exam week survival kit. He hasn't seen sunlight in who knows how long, and he has probably only slept for six hours over the course of four days. He doesn't even remember if he showered this morning, but hey, at least he's not flunking.

He eyes the diary on his desk table, lovingly sandwiched between his favorite books in an attempt to honor it somehow. He's still iffy about being privy to someone's motherfucking _diary_ , but he has to admit that Mr. Huang's thoughts have been helping him tremendously throughout the semester.

His Old Mandarin exam is tomor—today, Jaemin thinks as he glances at his phone to check the time. He figures a little extra revision won't hurt, and he grabs the journal and takes it to bed. Maybe studying will bore him to sleep.

After checking if his alarms are all set, of course. Can't be late for major tests.

> _February 14, 1352_
> 
> _I met someone today._
> 
> _I don't know how to explain. He's just...so stunning. So, so stunning. He's breathtaking—I don't think I've ever seen anyone as gorgeous as he is. He looks like a marble sculpture come to life, the level of flawlessness that can only be achieved by years and years of an artist's hard work._
> 
> _The people here believe in one powerful and almighty god who oversees everything. Perhaps their god was hellbent on creating the perfect human being, and that being turned out to be the alluring stranger._
> 
> _I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. I'm rambling. I think I've lost my mind. He's all I can think about. Is he a witch perhaps? Did he bewitch me? Did he do it on purpose?_

"Okay, Huang Renjun," Jaemin grumbles. "So are you going to tell me how you met this dude or not?"

> _We were both in a rush, and we bumped into each other at the stairs of Florence Cathedral. He was carrying so many papers and they flew out of his arms, dancing on the wind and scattering all over. I'm sure one or two of the sheets are still missing, really. He was shaking, looking like he was on the verge of crying, so naturally, as a good person, I stepped in to help._
> 
> _I didn't get a good look at his face until much later since he had a huge scarf on, but even the way he sniffled and tried to hide his misery was charming. Is that weird to say?_

"Just a little bit," Jaemin answered. "If he thought you were a creep, at least you were a kind and helpful creep."

> _We didn't manage to collect everything, but we had found a decent amount of papers. They were just blank sheets, so I doubt it mattered much. But he was so grateful, and he thanked me profusely even as we busied ourselves. I think we spent a good ten minutes on all fours, delicately stacking the papers into piles and weighing them down so they wouldn't blow away again. There were so many people out and about, chattering with each other with gifts in their hands and not giving us a second glance. It irked me, but he didn't seem to mind._
> 
> _When we'd done the best we could to clean the mess up, he pulled his scarf down and looked up. He smiled at me and my world stopped. He thanked me sincerely once more, and then he fled._
> 
> _I don't take offense to that. Obviously he was in a hurry and he had somewhere important to be. I might only be a passing memory to him, a benevolent stranger who took a couple of minutes to help out. Somehow that troubles me, but there's not much I can do in that aspect._
> 
> _There's an event they celebrate in the west called Valentine's Day. A day of lovers, if I understand correctly. It was today, and the daintily wrapped gifts the people were carrying around most likely had chocolate in them, the common present. I can't even begrudge them for not stopping to at least ask if he was okay; I wouldn't want anything ruining this day for me and my significant other either._
> 
> _Maybe this—meeting a beautiful stranger who makes my heart pound with a single look—was merely a coincidence._
> 
> _But I'd like to think it was fate._

Jaemin runs a hand over his face. _Oh Renjun, you pathetic romantic._

He can't help the small smile growing on his face though.

* * *

There's a couple of unrelated diary entries before Jaemin gets to read about Renjun gush over the beautiful stranger again, all detailing how Renjun is settling into Florence. Renjun has made friends with an easily startled tailor named Jisung and a fruit vendor he affectionately calls Nana, both of whom he met in the nearest marketplace. He'd been able to visit not only Florence Cathedral but also the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore and the Palazzo Vecchio, all of which are very popular tourist spots in recent times. Apparently Renjun had also been able to catch a glimpse of the construction of what would be the Florence Town Walls, which were built to defend the city against outside threats.

Renjun's accounts pique Jaemin's interest and leaves him wondering whether he should have majored in history instead of linguistics, but then again not a day goes by that Jaemin doesn't regret his life decisions so that's nothing new.

> _February 29, 1352_
> 
> _It's a leap year today, once every four years. Perhaps the magic of this quadrennial event is what leads to miracles._
> 
> _I met him again today; the boy with sunkissed skin and the brightest smile I've ever seen. He waved at me from across the street. I blinked and he was gone._

"That's tragic," Jaemin can't help but snort.

> __Is this an omen that I'm not meant to be happy?_ _

"Woah there. Chill, dude."

> _I'm probably being overdramatic, bearing in mind that I've only seen him twice, but something is drawing me to him and him being so close but so far is starting to frustrate me. It's largely possible that he doesn't feel the same way I do, and that today's encounter was just him being polite enough to acknowledge the stranger who'd helped him once upon a time._
> 
> _But he recognized me. He remembers my face, what I look like. He thinks I'm worth committing to memory, and that's enough of a sign for me._
> 
> _We'll meet again; I believe we will. And then I'll give fate a run for its money._

* * *

Renjun's diary becomes a sort of therapy for Jaemin. Whenever he's feeling down or whenever he needs to relax, he reads the next journal entry and it's a shot of serotonin or oxytocin, depending on Renjun's tone. Renjun is a humorous storyteller, and though sometimes he thinks some of Renjun's entries are exaggerated he does take Renjun's thoughts seriously and devours them like a starving man.

Renjun has found work as a painter, and he has been commissioned several times. The first one he'd finished was a landscape painting of a trader's home, and the next was a portrait of a banker's wife. There were others that followed, and he'd also painted an image of the marketplace Jisung and Nana were at every weekend and hung it on the bare walls of his loft to give his humble abode a bit of personality.

It seems a bit far-fetched for a foreign up-and-coming artist to have so many projects, but it was merely an ode to how talented Renjun must have been. Jaemin doesn't doubt it one bit, and Renjun writes about how he treated Jisung and Nana to a meal every once in a while. They wouldn't agree to Renjun not receiving anything in return, so Renjun always has a fresh stash of fruit every week and only the finest garments, courtesy of his new friends. He seems to be enjoying his new life in Florence, and Jaemin is happy for him.

> _April 27, 1352_
> 
> _Today, I prevail._

Jaemin snickers. "That's a little too dramatic, don't you think?"

> _Quite frankly, there's not a lot of things to do when you're an artist. Sure you labor over artwork, pouring out sweat and tears and sometimes blood like when I accidentally touched the splinter on my one and only easel, but after all that's said and done all you do next is wait for someone to approach you with more work._
> 
> _Sometimes a wealthy patron commissions you for a portrait of a loved one, and the final product would depend on how the person would like to be perceived. Get rid of the double chin, draw the nose a little higher and a little pointier, make the cheekbones more prominent, lower the receding hairline, among other things. Erase all the imperfections to leave only an image that is in a way inaccurate, but it makes the patrons happy and it pays good money so I'm happy to do it._
> 
> _Sometimes the wealthy patron asks you to wait just a moment longer, for the friend he's asking you to illustrate is running late. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and bear it even though your time is being wasted, declining offers of food and drinks as politely as you can. Don't want to be owing these people anything, you know._
> 
> _Admittedly, this patron is the nicest I've ever had. He offered me the refreshments thrice, asked me to drop the formalities and to just call him Mark. He's a good man, and he pays handsomely._
> 
> _Sometimes said friend barges in looking like a trainwreck, but sits on the stool in front of you anyway because they know you'll fix it in the output._
> 
> _The person to be painted always directs you to their good angles and composes themselves to their nicest poses. Never smiling with teeth, keeping it simple and demure. Sometimes you just nod and start right away so you can finish as quickly as you can, but this was not one of those times. This time, my paintbrush falls to the floor as I stare at the most attractive man I've ever seen in my life. He's the alluring stranger, this time without all the papers and the scarf blocking his face from view. His beauty out in the open for all to see and for me to immortalize._
> 
> _He recognized me this time, too. His eyes went wide and he called out to Mark, telling him he's met me before. He turned to me and gave me the sparkling smile that haunts my dreams and a small wave, and then he said hello. It's a simple word, mundane really, but it sent my heart into a frenzy. I greeted him back and cleared my throat, at a loss for words. He seemed to take it as an indication that I wanted to begin my task, and he nodded as he shifted positions._
> 
> _And then he gave me this little smile that showcased his dimples and oh, I think I stopped breathing for a while. The only thing that managed to snap me out of it was the giggle he released when he saw I wasn't moving, much less painting him._
> 
> _I don't remember much of the process; all I remember is that he was talking throughout it. Asking me questions, allowing me to ask my own questions, teasing his friend. It felt surreal, and I wouldn't have believed it had happened if I didn't live it myself. It was like a dream._
> 
> _Donghyuck Lee is his name, and he's the patron's best friend. He hails from Korea, just like Mark—the merchant who made all this happen in the first place. I already thanked him for giving me this opportunity, but I'm certain he thought I was talking about the job and not this chance that I've waited for ever since the lovely stranger smiled at me._
> 
> _Donghyuck is mischievous, and loud, and so, so kind. He made sure I took multiple breaks so I didn't tire easily, and he included me in his conversations with Mark. It was funny how he ordered Mark around and how Mark just went with it. They seem to be very fond of each other, and the fact that Mark now has a portrait in Donghyuck's likeness strengthens that idea._
> 
> _He didn't ask to emend any part of him, and I didn't. He doesn't need the modifications, and we all knew that. His wind-swept hair, his wrinkled clothing, and the blush high on his cheeks after running the how many miles needed to get here added whimsy to the image, and I think we all liked that. He's endearing, terribly so, and that charm seeps out of him whatever he does._
> 
> _We ended late into the night. He helped me pack my materials, and he asked me where he'd have to go to see me again. We'll be meeting at the marketplace on the weekend, and that's the end of that for now._
> 
> _It feels different now that I've found him again. I'd like to think that it was merely infatuation before, but now it's something stronger. It's not love—definitely not. I don't believe in moments wherein two people lock eyes and they just know that the other is it. That's too over the top for me._
> 
> _But it's the start of something new, and I'll hold on to it as tightly as I can._

* * *

"Aren't you a little too invested in this dude's life story?" Jeno asks as Jaemin finishes relaying last night's diary entry to him. "I mean, it's great that you're learning while satisfying your nosy nature at the same time. Maybe we should thank eBay and the magically disappearing seller, but do you have to tell me _everything_ that happens to him? In great detail?"

"First of all, we should _not_ thank the seller. Or eBay. Down with capitalism, Jeno!"

Jeno frowns at him. "You're drinking overpriced coffee and eating a tiny cake slice that costs half of what a whole cake at the supermarket would. Are you sure you're doing this I-hate-capitalism thing right?"

"Okay, second of all, shut up, Jen. I see cheesecake, I eat cheesecake. And third, The Adventures of Huang Renjun is a love story now too, thank you very much."

"Oh, Renaissance dude snatched up a lover?"

"Yes. Well, almost. They're going on a date on the next diary entry, I think."

"You _think_? So you haven't read it yet? Why not?"

Jaemin looks up at him, scandalized. He takes a long sip of his americano while staring Jeno straight in the eye, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards. "Because, my dear Jeno, stories like these are meant to be _savored_. You can't just breeze through it; it has to be cherished. You have to, like, cradle it close to your bosom just as you would a newborn child."

"And you can't do that by reading it in one sitting?"

" _Exactly_ , Lee Jeno. You get me."

"Actually, I don't, and I completely disagree but I don't have the time to argue right now." Jeno glances at the staff room apprehensively. "You do you, I guess. But now I really have to continue cleaning up, so tell me more about it _after_ work."

Jaemin smirks at him as he swirls his coffee cup, sloshing liquid around. "Ohoho, so you _want_ to hear about The Adventures of Huang Renjun?"

Jeno rolls his eyes, stacking some plates left on a nearby table. "He's all you talk about now so might as well indulge you. Maybe I'll be able to integrate some of the art knowledge you pick up from him in my Art Appreciation class."

"Yay! Jen, you're the bestest."

"So you'll pay for the coffee and cake?"

"Oh, hell no. That's on you, _best friend_."

* * *

> __May 02, 1352_ _
> 
> _Is it a problem when he's the only thing I can think of?_
> 
> _I was paid a hefty sum for a commission today and my first thought was to ask him to dinner. He mentioned how he hasn't had lasanis in a long time during our stay at the market yesterday, and I happen to know a good place serving it._
> 
> _I just checked to see if I had already written down what transpired yesterday but it seems that I haven't. Not much happened; we walked around and talked. Bought a few things, both for ourselves and for each other. He even bought bottles of wine for Jisung and Nana, which is very generous of him. I paid him back by buying him some cheese and pine nut fritters. It's peculiar that he's never had them before. Had he arrived in Italy later than I did?_
> 
> _It was magical though, every minute of it. I felt like the world faded away and it was only us two, which is a very big feat in a crowded marketplace. I had to constantly remind myself to keep my wits about me lest he or I get robbed. We parted at dusk with a promise to meet again the following weekend, and he kissed my cheek before he left. That has to mean something, doesn't it? Could he possibly feel the same way I do?_
> 
> _If I get more work within the week, I'll consider it a sign. I'll even buy myself a nice, tall glass of ale in celebration. I'll buy some for my friends as well, though I should probably keep from giving them more liquor after Donghyuck gave them one large bottle each. That's a problem for future Renjun, Nana, and Jisung though, in the event I suddenly gain sponsors. Highly unlikely, but we never know._

* * *

> __May 04, 1352_ _
> 
> _Two patrons approached me today, both bearing costly assignments. I'm still in disbelief. I had given up the thought after a whole day had passed and not even one person had come to me, and now I have not just one, but two people giving me temporary income._
> 
> _I don't think I have the courage to do it._
> 
> _...or do I?_
> 
> _I'd like to. I'd absolutely love to. Imagine a night with just him and good food. We don't even have to dine outside! I'm a competent cook and I'm sure I could get my hands on a lasanis recipe somewhere. It all comes down to whether I ask, and whether he says yes._
> 
> _We'll see each other again in a few days. I'll have the money, so let's see if I'll have the strength. The universe seems to be rooting for me and Donghyuck, and I mustn't disappoint._

* * *

"So Renaissance dude and his lover finally got together?" Jeno asks, eyes alight with curiosity. 

"They went on a few more dates and then loverboy popped the question. No, wait, I didn't mean an engagement," Jaemin scrambles to correct himself when Jeno raises an eyebrow. "The I-like-you-a-lot-please-be-with-me question. It was so cute Jen, Renjun was a little irked that he was beaten to it! He had a plan and everything and then bam! Hyuck showed up to their meeting place with a big bouquet of flowers like a fricking medieval promposal."

"Wait, recap, so Renjun is Renaissance dude? And Hyuck is his brand new boyfie?"

"Yes yes, keep up, Jen. What was I saying? Oh, right," Jaemin leans forward and tears off a piece of Jeno's croissant, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied noise. Jeno lets out a squeak of indignation as Jaemin continues talking. "So Hyuck pulled Renjun into some ye old abandoned alleyway and confessed there—"

"Isn't that kinda shady? Talking in a dark, cramped place? Doesn't sound very romantic to me."

"Well, Renjun doesn't share the same sentiment, and neither do I. We thought it was very sweet that he didn't want to pressure Renjun by doing it in an open area surrounded by people."

"Oh, I didn't think of it that way. Carry on." Jeno glances at his watch. "I still have fifteen minutes until I have to get back to work, will that be enough time?"

"The story ends there for now. He said yes, obviously."

"Cool, so he and Loverboy are an official thing now. That's great."

Jaemin grins widely. "I know, right! And Loverboy has a name, you know. I've mentioned it like three times in the last five minutes."

"I'm bad with names," Jeno whines, his voice muffled as he bites into his bread. "I'm happy for them, though."

"I am too." Jaemin sighs as he watches Jeno chug the remainder of his ice water. "Not to be delusional but I feel like Renjun and I would have been great friends had we met."

"That's not delusional at all, Jaem. You're a people person, and he seems amiable. I'm sure you would have been very close. Besties, even."

"And what does that make you?"

"We can be a trio of besties! Or a quartet, if we include Loverboy. Maybe even a quintet or a sextet if we include Haechan and his boyfriend."

"Haechan is the cutiepie with the round, fluffy head, right?"

"I think? He's objectively cute, I suppose. He has brown hair and he looks like an agent of chaos, does that match your image of him?"

"That's him, alright," Jaemin laughs. "Latte with extra whip?"

"Bingo. I'll introduce him to you sometime."

Jaemin nods eagerly. "I'd love that, thank you Jen."

Jeno smiles at him, the soft smile that makes his face scrunch up and his eyes turn into crescents, and Jaemin's heart skips a beat. "Anytime, Jaem."

* * *

> _August 04, 1352_
> 
> _I don't remember ever encountering his name before, but Donghyuck recently told me about a Roman fellow named Cicero. He thought, and thought a lot, and he got others to think as well. His spiels ranged from the nature of the gods (ones from long ago, ones that the current Church discourage worshipping), whether we could trust our what we saw and heard on the physical plane, and whether there was any merit in originality. He's brilliant, and Donghyuck looks up to him. He looks up to lots of people, from thinkers of the past to geniuses of the present, and I'm honored to be among them._
> 
> _I'd like to clarify that he doesn't look up to me physically, as he is technically just the slightest bit taller. Two inches, tops. But he has said that he admires me, and that is one of the greatest compliments I have ever received._
> 
> _We've been together for a while now, but I'm still learning new things about Donghyuck everyday. He's not a picky eater and he hums when he's happy. He doesn't usually fix his hair, so I don't know how he keeps it so healthy. He likes holding hands, and he likes kisses even more._
> 
> _He's a scholar, currently studying philosophy at the University of Florence at the insistence of his father, a merchant selling silk and spices and other items coveted by the Europeans. Truthfully I would have liked to study again too, but I can't afford that right now. Despite the amount of commissions I've been receiving, for which I am very grateful, I'm just barely able to live on what finances I currently have, and any other expense aside from the essentials and the occasional splurge will probably leave me in ruins._
> 
> _He's met Nana and Jisung in person instead of just my stories, and they like him a lot. It was to be expected, seeing as how he gifted them good quality fruit wine, but it still reassures me to see them get along so well._
> 
> _The address to my quarters is seemingly etched into his brain now, and he stays the night more often than appropriate. I'm not complaining though, not when I wake up to his cooking in the morning._
> 
> _He's also offered to buy me a bigger bed, but I refused. The reason I gave him is that I can afford my own, and really I can, but in all honesty I don't want any space between us and my tiny mattress fits us just fine when we mold into each other, when we don't know where one ends and the other begins. He's warm, and he warms all parts of me. My heart especially._
> 
> _Every moment I spend with him is a happy memory. I hope it's like this for a long, long time._
> 
> _Come to think of it, I never did get to ask what all the papers were for when we first met. I should ask tomorrow, since he told me he'd be coming over for dinner. Should I make citrus chicken, chicken with fennel, or pomegranate chicken? It would be a waste to cook them all in one sitting, and I can always save the other recipes for next time._
> 
> _Next time. There's a next time for us. Lots and lots of next times. Oh, how wonderful it is to love and be loved in return._

* * *

> __August 05, 1352_ _
> 
> _The papers were a request from one of his favorite professors. This person had asked him to procure some stacks from a nearby paper mill on his way to the university. He was afraid to be a bother so he didn't ask for help and tried to carry them all by himself. Obviously that did not turn out well, but he met me in the middle of that dilemma so he said he doesn't regret a thing. I don't either._
> 
> _Ultimately I chose citrus chicken with a side of asparagus for tonight, and rice pudding with almond milk for dessert. He smiled so widely the entire dinner, praising me and every dish I presented him. A simple meal made him cheery and content, could you believe it. I was as speechless as when I first saw him. His smile...oh I could go on about how beautiful it is. I didn't think it could get any more stunning, but it did._
> 
> _His smile is so much lovelier when it's directed at me._

* * *

> _September 13, 1352_
> 
> _He has a wonderful voice._
> 
> _I should know since I have it on constant loop in my head, but his talking voice is ostensibly different from his singing one. Not so much that it's unrecognizable, but his singing voice is definitely something else. Whereas his normal voice is like hard candy, flavors bursting into your mouth, his singing voice is honey, sticky and saccharine. It doesn't just fly through one ear and out the other; it invades your senses, flowing throughout your body and gripping you tight. Mesmerizing, both something you can't get enough of but you know you don't deserve. A blessing. Pure delight. Liquid gold._
> 
> _He sings me lullabies, he sings me hymns. He sings me both popular tunes and unfamiliar melodies, and I find myself scrambling for more._
> 
> _He sang me a church song last night, one I've heard from outside the Cathedral. It's plain, almost soulless, but his voice made it sound...look, I'm not a Catholic. I don't know anything about the Italians' religion aside from the bare minimum, but his voice is what I'd imagine their version of paradise would sound like, would feel like, would be. Their depiction of it is a kingdom in the sky beyond a locked gate, isn't that right? Well Donghyuck's voice is the golden key to open that barrier. His voice makes me feel light and airy and unburdened, like I'm floating. And when he stops singing, he always makes sure to pillow my fall with soft clouds. The imagery lines up well, in my opinion._
> 
> _Ecstasy would he be the word I'd use if I had to describe it in just one. Unadulterated pleasure. I want to put him on a pedestal and bow down to him, worship him. Like he was a god, the god I live to serve._
> 
> _Are these thoughts blasphemous? Probably. But I think them anyway. Hyuckie is shy whenever I commend him but I know the compliments fill him with bliss, and he is the most radiant when he's joyful._
> 
> _I adore him. I love him. I'd give anything to keep him happy and to stay by his side, and I hope he feels the same. I hope he loves me too._

* * *

> _September 15, 1352_
> 
> _He sang for me again today. A love song, with lyrics that clearly express his feelings. It's so nice to be certain, to be absolutely sure. He loves me too._

* * *

> _October 28, 1352_
> 
> _Nana, Jisung, and I went out for drinks today. It's so nice to be able to bask in their company again, as I've been busy with commissions and they've been busy growing their businesses. Nana has expanded his fruit stall, and Jisung has a permanent workplace now. He's still located at the market, but at least now he has an actual roof over his head while he works instead of a ratty tarp tucked into rotting wood planks._
> 
> _A riot had transpired at the marketplace not too long ago, actually. Several farmhands staged an uprising against their tyrant of a landlord. Good for them._
> 
> _There was also news of a dressmaker who died of the plague recently. Her house has been abandoned, and no one knows where her family members are now. We're all on edge, as this plague has devastated so much with no sign of stopping anytime soon, but fear is the enemy right now. We can't live our lives afraid._
> 
> _It's always a good idea to be careful, though._
> 
> _I'd be more alarmed, but it's such a common occurence now. The plague has taken so many lives that all we can feel is numbness. Death looms over us like a dark cloud, but life goes on. That's just the way it is._
> 
> _Donghyuck hasn't been feeling well lately, and we haven't seen each other in a while. I hope he feels better soon; I miss him dearly. I intend to visit him as soon as possible. I'll have to drop by Mark's manor to ask where he lives, so I'll have to make sure I wake up early. I should also drop by the market beforehand to buy ingredients for soup, and I've already reserved an exorbitant amount of fruit from Nana to boost his health. I hope it helps._

* * *

> _October 29, 1352_
> 
> _I saw Donghyuck today. He's got a high fever and yet he is shivering. He is pale and weak, but he is still so pretty._
> 
> _I made him chicken stew with extras leftover that he can eat again at a later time, if he's still not well enough to cook. I've also made him take coriander to lower his temperature. I'll buy a blanket from Jisung tomorrow, the biggest and softest one I can afford. His current blanket is a worn out little thing which he has brought all the way from home, and while the sentiment is sweet the blanket can barely cover his body. I want him to be as comfortable as possible, and perhaps that will help him heal quicker._
> 
> _There's a festival to be held soon called All Hallows' Day. A day to celebrate the lives of the dead, filled with revelry and merrymaking. There's bonfires and flowers and Donghyuck's favorite bread, so I hope he's well enough to participate in it._

* * *

> _November 02, 1352_
> 
> _Donghyuck's condition has gotten worse. I don't know how, I don't know why. He hasn't gone anywhere since he's gotten sick, and he didn't go far when he wasn't. I'm thinking of calling for a doctor, but he says he'll be fine. I don't believe him, but I'll respect his decision unless it lasts more than a week or until he starts spewing blood._
> 
> _I shouldn't be worried. It has only been a few days since Donghyuck had been indisposed, and he's always been slow to recover. I remember that he had a coughing fit for around a month, and that didn't result in anything grave. I pray the same goes for this one._
> 
> _I've moved in with him in his quaint little flat for the time being, since I'm worried that he doesn't take care of himself as well as he should. I've known he's well-off, considering how he often whips out his purse whenever my eyes linger on something for a little too long. Although his lodging is quite smaller than I imagined it to be, it is very cozy and inviting. The windows are wide and the space is very open, but it still feels like we're tucked away in our own little corner of the world. There's illustrations on the wall, some still life paintings and some of my own works framed and hung. One work in particular, a doodle of me and Donghyuck working in the kitchen that I drew while we were lounging together but he was busy and I was bored, makes me want to hide in shame. There's hearts all over it, covering every blank space of the paper. I don't recall drawing that many hearts; I'm sure I only drew ten at most, and only around our silhouettes. When I pointed it out to him he had the audacity to smirk and tell me not to worry and that he used very good quality charcoal-based ink so "your masterpiece wouldn't be ruined". It's far from a masterpiece, Donghyuck's head is the size of a pea in the sketch, even! But he likes it enough to draw hearts on it and give it a place of honor in an area easily seen, and I am grateful. It's a very warm welcome, and this place feels almost like home to me already._
> 
> _It's so nice here. It would be nicer if he weren't so ill._
> 
> _He wasn't up to celebrating All Hallows' Day, which is understandable but still slightly disappointing. I brought him the bread he likes so much nevertheless, and he kissed my cheek for it. We'll participate in the festivities next year then, when he's all better._
> 
> _I find solace in the fact he still smiles like he used to, albeit a bit dimmer than usual. He's alive and kicking, and he'll make it through. Nothing can stop Lee Donghyuck, especially not a nasty cold._
> 
> _He's munching on the pastry now as I write. Such a shame that it is only available during feasts, so I bought what could be about a week's worth of bread if he rations it well. By the looks of it though, it might all be finished in three days. He eats well, and I'm glad that hasn't changed. I thought he would be too sick to eat properly, and I'm glad to be proven wrong._
> 
> _His cheeks puff out when he eats, like a woodland animal. A chipmunk, was it? I'm not very good at Biology, but I'm certain he looks like one of those._
> 
> _He wants to cuddle now so I'll end it here, and hopefully this is the last I'll ever talk about him doing poorly. He seems content as he spreads his arms wide and whines for me to get into bed with him, and that's all I can wish for._

* * *

> _November 09, 1352_
> 
> _It's seemingly endless._
> 
> _I don't understand. There's lumps on his skin and swelling, so much swelling. He still refuses to be treated by a professional, saying that it might be just his allergies acting up. I'm sure that's not the case._
> 
> _He's putting on a brave face but I know his body hurts. He winces whenever he has to move and he tries to silence his grunts of pain. He keeps joking about it so I don't panic and I try to laugh along, but I can't hide my anxiousness from him._
> 
> _I'll find a way to get him to agree to a doctor's appointment soon. I just...I'm not ready to face a diagnosis. I have an idea of what his illness could be, and I want to be mistaken. Please let me be mistaken._

* * *

> _November 12, 1352_
> 
> _It's the plague._

Renjun's penmanship is shaky, on the brink of illegibility. It's hard to analyze and comprehend, especially with Jaemin's limited knowledge, but knowing the circumstances Renjun was under he's not annoyed at all. In fact, he's upset by the blow.

> _I finally got him to give in and visit a doctor. Looking back, I'm not sure if I'm happy with that decision._
> 
> _They said there's nothing they can do, that there's no working cure. I know that, Donghyuck knows that, everyone knows that. So what are we supposed to do now?_
> 
> _He wants me to leave him alone at his flat in fear of me catching the disease, but how could I? How could I leave him when he needs me the most?_
> 
> _I sent him home immediately, with a promise to come home to him with enough supplies to last us through the winter. He warned me that he'd lock the doors to prevent me from staying with him, but he didn't. I knew he wouldn't._
> 
> _I informed Jisung and Nana, and they said they'll pray for him. I hope their God is listening._
> 
> _I went back home to grab all of my belongings, and I went to talk to my landlord downstairs to settle my departure. He said there's always room for me if I decide to come back. Sicheng is a kind man, another immigrant from my country, and I know I'm lucky to have been blown in his direction. Perhaps after all this is over I'll invite him for a drink with Jisung and Nana and Hyuckie. He's only a couple of years older than us anyway, and I'm sure he'll fit right in._
> 
> _Luckily I had already finished all of my commissions and I haven't accepted requests for new ones, so all of my work is done and paid for. I've got money, and I used most of it to buy necessary provisions and several indulgences. I still have a good amount of it left, but if worst comes to worst, at least I know Donghyuck's bank account is loaded._
> 
> _The first thing I did when I got to his place was to go to him. He was sound asleep, so peaceful in his slumber, and I didn't have the heart to wake him up so I forewent dinner. I'll just wake up early to make breakfast tomorrow, I suppose._
> 
> _As soon as I finish up this chronicle, I'll slip into his bed and hold him tight. Press a kiss to his forehead before whispering good night. The survival rate for the plague isn't very high, but I hope he is able to fight, to pull through._
> 
> _I just noticed that I tend to say and think the word "hope" recently. I keep hoping, because it's all I have left. He's all I have left. My sweet Donghyuck, my muse, my love. I don't even want to think of a world without him, so I won't._
> 
> _Stay strong, my darling. We'll make it through._

* * *

"I can't believe I forgot the Bubonic Plague was a thing in their era," Jaemin wails, rubbing at his red eyes with too much force. "How could I have forgotten? It was literally the first thing that pops up whenever you google the Middle Ages."

He and Jeno are in Jaemin's dorm room, sitting on his bed as Jeno tries to console his crying best friend. "You had a lot of things on your mind, it's fine—"

"It is most certainly _not_ fine!" Jaemin's voice sounds warbly. "I would have been emotionally ready for it if I'd just kept it in mind! At least a third of Europe died from that disease, Jen!"

"That's really sad," Jeno agrees as he grabs some tissues and hands them to Jaemin. "Loverboy isn't dead yet though, right?"

"As Renjun so poetically said, he's still alive and kicking," Jaemin sniffles. "Fuck, I hope he makes it."

"He's not dead yet, so cheer up Jaem. I'm counting on a plot twist for them." Jeno watches as Jaemin blows his nose rather obnoxiously. "Besides, they're historically already dead anyway."

Jaemin glares at him as best as he can while trying not to let snot drip down his face. " _Never_ say that to me again, Lee Jeno, I swear to god. As long as I haven't reached the end they're still alive in my head, capiche?"

"Got it."

Jaemin nods. "Good. Now you owe me free coffee as compensation."

"You're kidding. Shouldn't I be charging _you_ for putting me through all of this?"

"Please, you're a sucker for a good love story."

"Okay, true." Jeno purses his lips together and scrunches his nose, making it look very boopable. Jaemin shakes his head to clear the thought. "Don't tell me if the ending is tragic, okay? I'd like to believe the universe has something good in store for them."

Jaemin sighs sadly, reaching for another tissue. "Me too."

* * *

> _November 19, 1352_
> 
> _We have found some semblance of normalcy. I paint while he rests, private pieces I don't intend to sell. I think they'd make lovely additions to Donghyuck's living space. An oil painting of the sun with its rays beaming down on a grassy field. A drawing of the marketplace on the weekends, full of life and activity. A sketch of the University of Florence, from which he had to take a leave of absence from. Artworks of places and things he hasn't seen in a long time. I hope they cheer him up, even just a little bit._
> 
> _When he's awake we eat and talk and laugh and embrace, and he sometimes he sings. His voice is raspier now, but it's still so lovely. He's still so lovely._
> 
> _Sometimes he'll wake up at night in cold sweat. I'm starting to dread sleeping, to be honest. I don't want to wake up one morning and find him gone._
> 
> _He's bedridden now, so it takes lots of effort to care for him. He calls himself a burden, apologizing for things he can't control. It pains me to see him like that, curled into himself and shutting me out. If I could take all his suffering and bear it I would, but as it is all I can do is assure him otherwise._
> 
> _The end is far from sight, but I hope we're already somewhere in the middle._

* * *

> _November 22, 1352_
> 
> _He smiled at me today. He doesn't smile much anymore._
> 
> _Time is going by too quickly. He's deteriorating, getting into these moods shrouded in sadness and it's hard to bring him out of them. He even asked me to make a memento mori for him. Could he imagine his death so soon that he'd ask me that? And how could he ask me to do that, knowing how much agony it brings me to admit that he might pass away?_
> 
> _He feels lonely, even with me here. I don't know how to change that._
> 
> _Last night I intended on asking him if he wanted to be left alone, if he wanted me to go. I couldn't do it. If had said yes, I don't know what I would have done._
> 
> _He tries to hide how fatigued he is, but the act of hiding itself must also be exhausting. He tells me he's alright when he's not. He doesn't even tell me when he's hungry and wants to eat. And it's not because he doesn't trust me, because he does. I know he does, he told me himself. But he doesn't want to feel like he can't do even the simplest things, so he tries to get up and grab food from the pantry or go to the restroom by himself. He's too weak for physical activity, but he holds onto the nearest solid thing and hoists himself up anyway. His resilience would be admirable if he wasn't so stubborn._
> 
> _He holds my hand firmly whenever we go to bed, attaches his limbs all over me and buries his head in my neck. It should be uncomfortable, but it's not. I like the reminder that he's still here, still breathing. Even if his morning breath is a bit jarring._
> 
> _I might arrange another doctor's appointment soon, just to make things clearer. I don't think I was very attentive last time, and neither was Donghyuck. Who knows—maybe we'll find a breakthrough._

* * *

> _December 08, 1352_
> 
> _He's sickly and the doctors are useless. Absolutely useless._
> 
> _We went back to the doctor's office today and they wanted to practically experiment on Hyuckie. They poked and prodded at him and even deliberately burst the little bubbles on his skin. Hyuckie yelped with pain, and I pulled him away with an announcement that we were to leave soon so they best give us their advice for treatment as quickly as they can. Oh, what advice it was._
> 
> _Their first suggestion was to let him bleed, claiming that it would reduce the "hot and diseased" blood. I couldn't let him get hurt like that, so we both refused. And then they wanted to put him in front of a fire to "drive out the fever"! And they told us to fumigate the loft to purify the air? What is that even supposed to mean?_
> 
> _Their final brilliant piece of advice was to rub onions, herbs, chopped up snakes or a cut-up pigeon all over his body! And to drink vinegar, arsenic and mercury (which are poisonous!) or eat crushed up minerals! We were horrified! It's an illness, not a demon to exorcise! We left that office in a rage. Imagine paying so much to have nonsense thrown at you! I understand that they haven't found a working cure but their propositions don't sound the least bit effective or safe._
> 
> _There were lots of people waiting outside the office. I can't believe I've gone for so long without acknowledging the plague striking us down, but to be fair Florence is one of the more prosperous areas and signs of hardships aren't abundant here, or at least they aren't easily seen._
> 
> _He hasn't been getting better, but at least he has snapped out of the bubble of sorrow he was trapped in a while ago. He doesn't have the energy to sing out loud anymore, but he still hums. He hums a different melody for every mood, every activity. A happy beat when I'm cooking and cleaning, a slower tune when I'm working on a piece. I haven't been accepting offers for work so I don't get my clients infected if somehow the disease has passed onto me, but I've started drawing more personal things. Tonight I just finished a painting of the Italian port I landed on when I first arrived, laden with ships and goods and people. I'll be working on something else soon._
> 
> _I've sent word to Jisung and Nana that I'm fine though Hyuck is not, and they wish him well and asked me to give him their regards. I've sent a letter to Mark detailing Donghyuck's condition, but I have yet to receive a reply._
> 
> _I didn't have a clue on what to do when all this first started, and I still don't know what to do now. Donghyuck doesn't either but his mood has gone up for some reason, and for now I suppose that's enough._

* * *

> _December 13, 1352_
> 
> _There's a woman who lives nearby. Her name is Irene, and I met her this morning. She knocked on the door and let herself in to see Donghyuck. She didn't look the least bit surprised to see what state he's in. Word travels fast, I assume._
> 
> _She wasn't surprised to see him but I was very surprised when she didn't hesitate to go in for a hug. She held Donghyuck tight, whispering into his ear, and he burst into tears._
> 
> _They must be close, because she brought a mountain of food that he likes and she talks to him like he was her own kin. Before leaving she told me that her entire family have all died of the plague, and she's the only one left._
> 
> _She prayed over Donghyuck, for Donghyuck. I hope her Catholic Lord isn't cruel enough to take him away from her too._
> 
> _I offered to have her stay here temporarily, or at least come over regularly. She declined the first offer but took the second one graciously. She stayed for dinner, feeding and entertaining both me and Hyuckie until nightfall. She praised my talent as she surveyed the walls of the loft as well! She's such a sweetheart, and I can see why Hyuck likes her. A parental or a guardian figure like Irene is a treasure when you're far away from your loved ones._
> 
> _I wonder if his parents know he's sick. I hope Mark told them, or that he will tell them soon._
> 
> _Irene made sure Donghyuck was fast asleep when she took her leave, and she thanked me for taking care of Hyuckie. It turned into a thank you competition because I was thanking her for taking care of him before I met him and she was thanking me for taking care of him now, but I enjoyed spending time with her. She'll come over again soon with a new batch of goodies, and I'm excited for it._
> 
> _I drew today. It's nothing much, nothing fancy. Just a sketch of Donghyuck, the Donghyuck who wasn't ill. A delighted and gleeful Donghyuck, with his eyes crinkled in laughter and a wide grin that could illuminate the darkest night. Beauty marks scattered over his skin and hair soft and bouncy. A golden boy crafted of only the purest substance._
> 
> _I miss his smile. Not the gentle and careful one he gives me at present, but the airy and carefree one he once had. It's gone now, and probably will not return anytime soon but it is forever etched in my memory, and on paper now too._
> 
> _Unlike my other works that I display around the loft, I'll keep this drawing to myself._

* * *

> _December 25, 1352_
> 
> _There's good days and bad days. Good days are when he smiles in a faint resemblance to how he used to and jokes around with me, speaking a little louder and swaying on the bed with the illusion that he's dancing. Bad days are when he doesn't smile at all, staring out the window and humming sad lullabies or tunes that are usually played during funerals. It's a good day today._
> 
> _Westerners like celebrations, it seems. There's one for every month, if I'm not mistaken? Today is Christmas, the day that their God is born. A joyous occasion, and more importantly it means that they're selling Donghyuck's favorite bread again. Irene bought lots of it for him, and she also came with provisions for a grand banquet enough for twenty people._
> 
> _Hyuckie was so happy to see her, or maybe the bread to be more specific. We had a hearty meal, the rest of which we'll probably be eating until the new year. I'm most excited for that celebration, to be honest. I've heard there would be explosions in the sky, in different patterns and designs. Fireworks, they are called. Back in China only the nobility had access to them, and we lived so far away from the palace that we couldn't catch a glimpse of their sky. The best part is that we can watch it from home; all we have to do is open the windows and Donghyuck, Irene and I would be able to enjoy the show without distractions. Hyuckie didn't even know that fireworks existed so he's the one most excited for it._
> 
> _Irene told me that magic happens at Christmastime, and I believe her because this is the happiest I've seen Donghyuck in a long time. It's apparently also the time when wishes come true._
> 
> _I'm not sure if I believe in that, but we need a miracle right now. Is it so bad if I indulge myself in this, just for a moment?_
> 
> _All I ask is that Donghyuck gets better, and I'm sure that's what Irene and Donghyuck wish for too. I hope, with all the hope I have left, that our combined longing for the same thing is heard by whoever's in charge of making miracles happen._

* * *

> _December 30, 1352_
> 
> _He didn't make it._

That's all that is written, and Jaemin blinks rapidly to get rid of the tears that are starting to accumulate. He breathes in deeply and runs his hands through his hair. No, this can't be it. Right?

Despite his one-journal-entry-at-a-time policy, Jaemin immediately flips to the next page.

> _February 14, 1353_
> 
> _It's been a while since I've opened this notebook, and it's been a year since I've met him. He's been gone for almost two months now. It feels like longer, though._
> 
> _It was a painless death, or at least that's what Irene and I believe. She waltzed into the loft one morning and dropped a kiss onto Donghyuck's forehead, but his skin was cold and his pallor was odd. She woke me up and when we couldn't wake him, that's when we realized he wasn't breathing._
> 
> _He died in my arms, technically. I still don't know how to feel about that._
> 
> _I don't remember much afterwards. I know Irene fell on her knees as she kissed every inch of Donghyuck's face, her tears spilling down onto his face and making it look like he was crying too. I was numb, but I know I immediately sent for Mark. He arrived hours later, and my memories go blank after that._
> 
> _It is no one's fault, we know that. At one point I blamed myself for not taking care of him better but Irene set me straight, said that Donghyuck wouldn't want me thinking like this. She's right, as she usually is, but it took awhile for the thought to settle, for me to accept it._
> 
> _The ceremony was small, just Irene, Jisung, Nana, Mark, some of Mark and Hyuck's mutual friends, several of his mates at university including a man named Chenle that he'd mentioned was his best school friend, and me. The ceremony was terrible. I'm quite certain no one could watch as the priest set fire to him while reciting prayers for eternal salvation, and everyone kept giving me condolences. I didn't want their pity, especially when they're all also grieving. I just wanted him back._
> 
> _His parents couldn't come, but we'll be sending the ashes to them, back home. Policy states that we couldn't hold a funeral for him and that we had to burn his body to "burn the disease", which is questionable but we couldn't go against it. He wasn't able to complete his studies but Johnny, the professor who is his favorite, gave him a certificate of graduation anyway. It's a kind gesture, and we'll be sending it to his parents along with him._
> 
> _He'll be coming home soon. I hope he's okay now, grinning at us from wherever he is and complaining about why we're so sad._
> 
> _I have plans. I didn't before. I had to take time to compose myself. Jisung and Nana helped a lot, and I'm thankful to them. I'll be staying with Irene permanently after I clear out Donghyuck's loft, and we'll look out for each other. Not a bad plan at all._
> 
> _I'll go back to work, and I'll invite Sicheng to a pub to meet Jisung and Nana like I promised myself I would. I'll earn enough money for a trip to Korea, and Irene and I will visit Donghyuck's parents. We have been corresponding, and they'd be happy to have us. Mark's coming along too, but he'll pay for his own ticket. As he should, the rich bastard (and I say this with fondness)._
> 
> _My life had changed drastically, but somehow I'm right back at my beginning. Wandering around Florence with no sense of purpose, but now I have friends by my side and a muse of inspiration. That's more than I came here with._
> 
> _I miss him. Everyday I do. Not only me, but the others too. But I know he's still with me, just not physically. My love for him will never fade, but I'm making space for other things, other loves. He'd like that._
> 
> _The biggest shame is that he didn't get to see the fireworks. Irene and I watched them with Donghyuck's decaying form still on the bed, sobbing as they lit up the sky. It was such a beautiful display. He would have loved it._
> 
> _Truthfully I wasn't sure whether I ever wanted to see this journal ever again, much less write in it. This will be the last time I add anything to this notebook, but I'll carry this thing around in remembrance of him and what could have been. It's closure, in a way._
> 
> _Donghyuck, my darling, thank you for being a part of my life, even just for a moment. I love you dearly, and a lot of people do as well. I'm sad this is where our story ends, but my own story is still in progress. I need to write it as well as I can or else you'll be upset with me, and Irene wouldn't cook me our favorite meals._
> 
> _My lovely full sun, maybe in another life we'll have a happy ending._

That's the last of it. Nothing follows and Jaemin is slightly pissed off. Fuck fate, and fuck medieval healthcare.

When Jaemin closes the notebook he accidentally flips to the back, and he finds a secret pocket embroidered in the leather cover. There's a piece of paper slipped into it, and when Jaemin opens it he finds that it is the drawing of Donghyuck Renjun had talked about. The paper is neatly folded, still crisp even after millenia. There's another paper folded in between the parchment, and Jaemin assumes that it is to stop the ink from bleeding and ruining the portrait. Whatever ink Renjun had used had faded over time, but the beauty of his talent is still there. Soft lines and shading depicting a man who looks about Jaemin's age, looking charming and mischievous at the same time. 

_He's cute_ , Jaemin thinks as he inserts the sketch back into the secret pocket, but there's something about the drawing that unsettles him. Who does Donghyuck remind him of?

* * *

As Renjun said, life goes on. Jaemin survives finals and passes his Old Mandarin class with flying colors, and his professor even praises him for all of his efforts. He continues annoying Jeno at the café, and he even convinces the manager Doyoung to give him a job since he's there all the time anyway. He'll be starting next semester, and Jaemin is looking forward to it.

Renjun's story didn't end with Donghyuck's death, and Jaemin's story will not end with Renjun's journal.

Speaking of Renjun's journal, the day before Jaemin is scheduled to go home for the break something eerie happens. He's chatting Jeno's ear off when Haechan and his presumed bf walk into the café, but this time it's the other one who orders. Jaemin moves away so Jeno can do his job and continues his story about the stray cat that attacked some old guy's poodle when the speakers blare and Jaemin's blood runs cold.

"Renjun," Taeyong calls out, and Jaemin's head snaps up so fast his neck starts to hurt. _Renjun_. It's just a coincidence, right?

But what a coincidence it was, for that's when it hits him that the sketch of Donghyuck is a carbon copy of Haechan. Renaissance Renjun had even nailed the mole placements, the way Haechan's eyes turn up in mirth, and the curve of his smile. The resemblance is uncanny, and if Jaemin was drinking coffee he'd probably have spat it out.

Before they leave Haechan waves in Jaemin's direction, and Jeno raises his arm to reciprocate. He winks at Jaemin as he leaves and "Renjun" pushes his shoulder playfully.

Jeno taps his arm after what feels like a lifetime. "Jaem, whatever you're doing looks super creepy. Please stop."

Jaemin whips his head to face Jeno. "Jen, do you remember the name of Renaissance dude?"

Jeno pouts at him. "You know I'm bad at names."

Jaemin swallows nervously. "His name was Renjun. Huang Renjun."

Jeno tilts his head sideways as he processes things. "Like the customer we served just now?"

"Yes! And the cute one next to him, his boyfriend? Haechan, right? He looks exactly like this!" Jaemin puts his bag down on the counter and pulls out Renjun's journal, flipping to the back pocket where Donghyuck's portrait is pressed. "See! Practically the same person!"

Jeno squints at the image, eyes widening in realization afterwards. "No way."

"Holy shit, I need to sit down." Jaemin marches to a booth in the corner and Jeno follows him after signaling for someone to cover for him. "This is incredible. Literally incredible. I cannot believe this."

"Could it be a just really specific coincidence? No, wait, that's stupid, Haechan looks like the drawing and everything." Jeno leans back in his seat, tapping away at the table. "Could I see that drawing again?"

After Jaemin hands him the sheet of parchment, he flips to the end of the journal, to Renjun's final words before he starts anew.

_Maybe in another life we'll have a happy ending._

The image of Haechan and Renjun walking out of the café impossibly close burns itself into his mind. He closes the journal and gives it a gentle pat. He hopes this is the story in which Renjun and Donghyuck end up together, and that they live happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Tried to make everything as historically accurate as I could but I have taken a lot of liberties as well! Take everything in here with a grain of salt and don't quote me on your next history test :3
> 
> A round of applause to the renhyuckfest admins for their time, patience, and for all of their efforts! And thank you to the prompter as well! This might not have been what the prompter imagined but in case the prompter of #120 is reading this, thank you for this opportunity to spin your idea into whatever the hell this was! <3
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4047VZU4PXGHrJ9HiFPgRJ?si=fzEqzYQYS9O_3UBBDx2WKA) | twt: [@whatsavotingacc](https://twitter.com/whatsavotingacc?s=09)


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